Embedded Shrapnel
by maggiemae815
Summary: My headcanon on where the boys go from 1x06 "The Fall". Spoilers up to this episode. Rated for language. Un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine.
1. Settling Dust

"So what do we do now?"

The week that had passed since their narrow and bloody escape from the farm had been a maelstrom of phone calls and e-mail, only half of which had been returned. Emma was steadfastly ignoring their calls; Roderick or one of the other Followers had replaced her phone, and the only responses they got were from Roderick, who told them to remain at the safe house until Doctor Tarr could visit them.

He arrived 3 hours after they did, and by that point Paul had been near delirious and pasty white with blood loss. Jacob paced for another hour as the doctor stitched Paul up and transfused him with some blood he had on hand.

"What do you mean, 'What do we do?' We wait for our orders. Tarr's coming here again tomorrow for a check-up but he said I would probably be ready to move in another few days," Paul said, subconsciously rubbing his abdomen as he waited for the painkillers to kick in. The damned doctor had given him simple ibuprofen, claiming Joe didn't want him becoming impaired in case they needed to vacate the premise quickly.

"Charlie called earlier and said that our phones and the e-mail were clean again, but I don't like it. I don't like any of this." Jacob seemed to be talking to himself at this point, mumbling the words out hurriedly.

Paul watched Jacob pace wishing he could get up and go to him. Fucking Hardy.

"What else can we do but wait, Jacob? Joe will rearrange his plans."

"Rearrange?! Emma obviously knew about some kind of backup. She's somewhere with Joey and it was probably all part of the plan. I bet we weren't even meant to survive that raid!"

Paul didn't like hearing Jacob question the plan. It meant he was questioning Joe, and that gave Paul a pain in his gut that had nothing to do with the stab wounds.

"Think rationally. Those men that saved us were Followers. Roderick is in contact with us. We've heard from Charlie, been visited by Tarr. Our part in this isn't done."

"It can be."

There was thick heavy silence, and Jacob's pacing finally stopped when he noticed how stiff Paul had become.

"What does that mean?" Paul breathed out.

"I know someone who is very discrete who works the border. They owe me a really big favor; we can be in Canada in two days' time. It'll be easy enough to disguise ourselves, and Charlie told us that the custody transfer has begun. The Feds are still busy looking for Emma and Joey. It would be easy –"

"Jacob."

"NO! She abandoned us, Paul! She fucking left me, and you were all bloodied up and practically gutted. I thought you were dead when we got here!"

"But I'm not –"

"Roderick isn't answering our questions, just telling us what he thinks we need to know, and Charlie only told us about clean communications and that the tunnel safe house in the city was compromised. What more can we do?" Jacob was back to pacing, unable to meet Paul's pitying eyes.

"Come here," Paul whispered. He motioned for Jacob who was staunchly ignoring his appeal.

"What am I even _doing_?!" Jacob hissed out.

"Jacob, come here," Paul said, harder this time. Jacob turned towards him, slowly trudging his way towards the couch on which Paul was reclined. He sat down on the coffee table, looking around the sparsely furnished two-room cabin in which they were currently residing; anything to stave off looking Paul in the eyes.

"We **can't** run. You and I both know you talk a big game, but in the end you wouldn't be able to live with that. Shit. I'm not sure how far we would get anyway. Joe Carroll is not the guy to turn his back on. He knows us better than we know ourselves. He _loves_ us. Don't doubt that."

Jacob thought he heard a certain inflection in Paul's voice.

"He doesn't know about my connection at the border. And he thought Emma and I were meant to be. **I **thought she was my soul mate. But we were both wrong about that."

"But he also knew enough to put us together. As lovers."

Jacob pulled away from the hand that was slowly reaching towards him.

"The only person he's playing mind games with in this is Hardy. He didn't have plans for us to – for what went down between us."

"Jesus, you still can't even say it. Can you talk about what happened between the THREE of us?"

Jacob got up and headed towards the door.

"You can't be naïve enough to think Joe didn't have bigger plans for all of us, Jacob. They aren't mind games. He's a loving parent, and he's putting us in the situations that we'll learn from most. You have to see that. Emma's chapter is going to be with Joey and Claire. Our chapter was with Sarah and each other; that's the one he had planned out. But where we go from here is up to us."

"THERE IS NO 'US'!"

Jacob stormed out of the cabin, the resounding thud of the door echoing through his cluttered thoughts.

What was he _doing_?


	2. Dramamine (Jacob's Interlude)

Jacob wandered the grounds for about 20 minutes, his hood the only means of stealth he had to his advantage if he happened to come across a random neighbor. And if he did, then where would he be? The only people who didn't know about Joe Carroll and his Followers were people who didn't own televisions, computer, cell phones, radios, and pretty much lived under rocks.

He didn't have anyone to get their hands dirty in his stead. Emma was… well, who knew where? Besides Joe, and Roderick, Charlie, and probably other Followers that he didn't even know existed. Like Hank, who was dead on some slab in some lab being poked and prodded by the disgusting goons who deemed themselves worthy of being called law enforcement.

Paul couldn't do the heavy lifting if they were discovered, either. He was barely able to get himself off the couch and into the bathroom; Jacob's main job recently had been fetching him water and food and helping him get to the toilet when nature called. And worrying, but he tried to keep that to himself.

What if he needed something right now? What if he'd gotten up to go to the bathroom not ten feet away from where he had been stuck on the couch, face looking as pained when Jacob had stormed out as it had the morning after **that** night. What if he'd gotten up but fallen and Jacob wasn't there to help him and he popped his stitches and Jacob wouldn't even be able to witness any minute beauty in his death because he was out here having a fucking breakdown?!

Everything that had happened since they left their townhouse (no, not 'theirs; there was no 'them', no 'us' between he and Paul; it was all an act, every bit of it) had seemed, at first, like a perfect dream come to fruition. All had gone as planned. Joey was coming out of his shell and learning the truest art, he and Emma had been reunited after the long years apart. It had all been going accordingly until Paul had allowed his frivolous and unfounded jealousy to taint their chapter.

Bringing Megan to the farmhouse had probably been the ultimate wrench in the machine they were supposed to be cogs in, chugging along the path Joe had outlined for them.

Why? Why did Paul do this to them?

Jacob had been allowing his feet to lead him as he turned these thoughts over and over in his mind. When he looked up he was by the rear of the cabin. The shades were all drawn but he could see that the lamp in the main room wasn't lit. That meant Paul had been on the couch long enough to pull the drawstring on the only thing in his arm's reach, and Jacob knew that the other man wasn't stupid enough to try to navigate the cabin in the dark.

He assumed Paul was sleeping, or was at least being kind of enough to pretend to be for whenever Jacob returned. Because that's what Paul did; he walked on egg shells, he never pushed (until recently) and he took excellent care of Jacob. Had from the second they'd been told they were to be in love, and flawlessly so. Maybe even before that…

Jacob walked around to the front of the cabin, feeling as pathetic, confused, and guilty as he had when he left. But he also felt a longing, the one he associated with the guilt, which pulled him towards the wounded but incredibly strong man stuck prone on the ratty old couch inside of the creaky, drafty safe house they'd gotten themselves stuck in.

Maybe Paul was right and they didn't have to label everything. But that's what had drawn Jacob to Joe Carroll so strongly. He had lived with uncertainty his entire life. His parents had moved him around, never staying in one place for more than a school year (if he was lucky) until his junior year when they were murdered in front of him during a home invasion. The murderer, a deranged man who'd escaped the local prison, had gutted them like animals, all the while singing and humming and laughing to himself while Jacob watched from his parent's closet.

But what he remembers the most about that day, besides the sounds and smells and the RED, RED, RED EVERYWHERE, was how fascinated he'd been by the madman's precision. Jacob had heard the man enter the house because he was reading his graphic novels instead of sleeping as he should have been. By the time he got to his parent's bedroom he could hear the footsteps in the hallway outside the door. Instead of waking his mom and dad (which always took effort, since they both depended heavily on their dear sleep aids) he had darted into their closet. The disheveled man that entered the bedroom had slit his parent's throats quickly and efficiently, playing with their insides for about eight minutes or so until the authorities arrived in response to tripped silent alarm. Jacob had only one thing to say to the police, after saying he hadn't seen anything while hiding in the closet.

"Took ya long enough, but I guess that's what they get for moving us into the middle of fucking nowhere."

He's pretty sure that statement is the first thing in his psych records.

When he'd first come across Joe's story his fascination in the art of death, which had been building since that day in the closet, or maybe even before then, had come to a head. He'd visited the man who would become a mentor; the only person who had ever seen Jacob for what he was and put him on a pre-laid course.

But now he was leading his own two feet again, and to help himself from falling off of the precipice he steered them through the front door towards the only form of comfort and familiarity he had left.

His destination henceforth, until Joe could outline a new one, would be Paul.


	3. Roll Away Your Stone (Paul's Interlude)

The jarring slam of the door caused Paul to flinch, a hiss of pain escaping him as a result of the tightening of his abs. He allowed himself a few steadying breaths before he dropped his head onto the back of the couch, the grimace on his face one of a mixture of pains. But he knew Jacob would come back. For whatever reason, he knew Jacob wouldn't leave him.

He remembered the first time he saw Jacob, the way the younger man had been completely enraptured by the troublesome vixen that was Emma Hill. For the first time in his life he'd felt a pull towards another guy. He wasn't sure what it had been. Maybe it was the way Jacob's demeanor practically screamed vulnerability, a characteristic that had always been the mark of his prey in the past. But he didn't want to watch the life drain from Jacob's eyes, and not just because they were both a part of a very exclusive alliance.

The darkness that lurked beneath the surface of Jacob Well's mind was something to be explored and savored, not snuffed before it had come to the surface. He was a young man getting to know himself, and when they'd been given the task of posing as a couple to watching sweet, scarred Sarah, he had found himself honored with the opportunity to help peel away those layers.

When Paul's patient but persistent exploring had been rewarded with honesty and intimacy, he counted it as one of the most precious things in his life, second only to Joe looking at him through the fingerprint smudged glass as if he mattered; that moment of arriving at a place he had searched for while whole life but wasn't sure existed.

And now all of these days, months, years, and experiences later, and it had become tainted with blood; and not in a desirable fashion.

He had never been too concerned with labels, a lesson he'd tried to surreptitiously sink through Jacob's skin, although they'd never been relevant to his life until he met the blue eyed tempter. Romance, to him, had been a means to an end since his teenage years. Whether it was for pure manipulations purpose to gain what was needed, or to satisfy his inexplicable craving for blood payment, the mark was always female.

Yet he found himself seamlessly sinking into the character of Billy Thomas. Maybe that was when the lines blurred; and yet. After that first kiss during 'gay chicken', that initial exposure to soft lips and seemingly innocent breath, it had been so simple. Sensible. Sometimes he even thought it was pure. He as Billy and Jacob as Will; they were in love and flawed but perfect together.

The day Jacob had admitted to him that he had never killed before was the day he described to Jacob, in excruciating detail, every single one of his kills. Not just the acts, but the stream of conscious that he had gone through in those moments. It had been the night Jacob had first allowed him to touch him beyond his face and chest. They'd both been so aroused there hadn't been time for any discussion or request for permission. Hands had sought and found and caressed until their demons were momentarily satiated.

When he found himself growing hard he knew it was time to cool down since Jacob could arrive back at any given moment and who knew what state of mind the young man would be in. Probably not one that would happily process Paul, hard and wanting, dazed out on the couch.

After a few more soothing breaths Paul reached for the lamp and pulled the drawstring. He hoped with all that was inside of him (good, bad, hideous and wretched) that Jacob would be back soon, if only to let Paul soothe the monsters that he was so good at taming. But a bit of reverse psychology was always necessary with a man so set on defining everything as black and white, good or bad.

Gay or straight.

Who the fuck even cared anymore?

Hadn't they delved into an underworld seedier than any hetero or homosexual without malicious intent could ever imagine? Because while Paul knew that what they were creating was more classically beautiful than "Starry Night", their artistry came at an ultimate price paid by others, and possibly even they themselves.

Paul turned his mind away from this, as he often did, and allowed himself to remember the night that Jacob&Paul and Jacob&Emma became Paul&Jacob&Emma. How Jacob had allowed himself to be touched in completely new ways, how he'd touched Emma in ways he had literally never imagined himself touching a woman again, especially not that woman. How they'd all reached the culmination of their pleasure with blood still beneath two of their fingernails.

This somehow managed to soothe his libido, though it wasn't easing the pain in his gut that, still, had little to do with his sustained injuries from that prick Hardy.

What they'd shared that night, the three of them, had had as much to do with sex as it had to do with love. It was carnal pleasure at its finest, but now that he sees it, it was also a manipulation of Emma. She probably knew that the two men sharing with her what they'd so preciously kept to themselves would pollute it almost to the point of no return.

Now he just had to figure out how to wipe off the blemish she left on not only he and Jacob's connection, but he'd have to help his boy get over the abandonment that heinous bitch had subjected them to.

As his eyes drifted shut, he wondered if maybe the doctor had slipped him something strong than ibuprofen, or if the rollercoaster ride he'd been on since abducting Sarah had finally reached a coast and his body was taking advantage of the respite.

For he knew that after the arrival of and examination by Doctor Tarr there would be yet another upheaval.

How could there not be?

They were Followers of Joe Carroll. And Joe Carroll always had something up his sleeve.


	4. Ambition Cuts Us Down

_Disclaimer: I still don't own **The Following** or any of the characters therein. My only beta is moscato, and she's kind of a fickle bitch.  
Obviously, still rated for language.  
I hope you all enjoy. Let me know if you think I'm doing wlel on the voices of our favorite Followers._

_I saw I got a few Favorites and Followers myself (lololol) and that lit the fire under my ass. But don't worry, I don't hold chapters hostage waiting for comments. If I did, I wouldn't even write. Hah. Ha. Okay. No more wine. Or verbosity. Here's the chapter._

* * *

Paul was half asleep when Jacob went back in, and the only sound in the cabin besides Paul's even breathing was the creaking of floorboards as Jacob tried to walk quietly towards him.

Jacob reached the couch and stared for a minute, so lost in his own thoughts that he jumped visibly when Paul's hand landed on his knee.

"Lay down with me?" Paul asked, the quiet of the moment allowing his vulnerability to show through. Though, Jacob reminded himself, Paul had opened himself up to Jacob in a way he knew he never had with anyone else. He always allowed his vulnerabilities to be displayed when they lived in their happy house of cards.

Paul's hand drifted up to Jacob's hip, and with a slight tug Jacob allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position on the edge of the couch.

Their eyes connected in the moonlight that drifted in through the slants in the blinds, and Jacob couldn't tell anyone, including himself, why he suddenly felt the urge to start crying like a lost child.

"We're gonna make it through this." Paul's voice was as soft and reverent as his warm palm was against Jacob's cheek. "I'm not going anywhere." He thought if he said the words enough, they would become solidified facts.

He sat up slightly and Jacob met him to kiss away the grimace that formed.

"I know," he whispered, nudging Paul to make some room for him so that he could lie down on the couch without putting pressure on Paul's abdomen.

They lay together, both drifting, and just after Jacob fell asleep Paul whispered regretfully, "Until Joe says it's time."

* * *

The shrill ringing of the cell phone jolted them awake. Jacob reached for it but headed it to Paul when he saw it was Doctor Tarr, who was not a person Jacob got along with well. The baleful, pretentious, egotistical bastard was too much for Jacob to handle. He was usually a people person but the Doctor and Paul were more on each other's level, menacing in ways Jacob almost envied. They had both obviously killed before, and Jacob felt like the Doctor somehow knew he hadn't and looked down on him for it.

"See ya then," Paul was saying when Jacob tuned back in. "Alright, I'll keep the phone nearby. The car is all set up, and we've had a lot of practice at living out of bags. You give the okay; we'll be ready to move."

After hanging up Paul stood slowly and laboriously, swatting away Jacob's hand as he attempted to help Paul steady himself.

"I need to learn to move on my own. Anyway, that's the hardest position to get up from. I'm just a little stiff," Paul explained as he stretched languidly, but he had to pause when he caught the sparkle in Jacob's eyes. Paul chuckled and Jacob, for once, allowed himself to go with the moment.

They moved in towards each other, Jacob's grasp on Paul's waist hesitant but needy, as Paul slipped his hands under the back of Jacob's shirt, leeching the warmth from his skin like blood soaked into a bandage.

Before either one of them knew what was happening the room temperature seemed to rise exponentially until they landed on a couch with a thud that jarred Paul.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Jacob started stuttering out, pulling himself away as Paul lifted his shirt to reveal the bandages, which he had changed himself with shaky hands just 12 hours earlier. The bandages that had been the cathartic for his freak out the night before; they were absolute proof of the dangers of their situation, and when he'd been faced again with Paul's mortality, the weight had seemed too heavy.

But Paul merely shrugged, pulled his shirt bag down, and reached for Jacob.

"Soon I'll be healed," he whispered, before pulling Jacob in for one more passionate kiss. "Until then, we just need to be careful."

"I dunno what came over me," Jacob mumbled as he pulled away, already having forgotten his resolution to follow Paul to the ends of the earth now that the steady light of day was casting itself harshly throughout the apartment.

"I wish you would just… feel," Paul said, frustrated at this endless loop they seemed to be stuck in. And if it hadn't been for his damn wounds they would've been able to get lost in the moment, before Jacob could let his conscious mind catch up to his actions. Just another reason Paul would need to exact revenge on Hardy… once Joe was done with him, of course; and if he made it through the upcoming melee.

Jacob ran his fingers through his hair and then over his face, trying to jostle his thoughts back into place, but by the time he came up for air Paul had moved himself into the bathroom, and when Jacob checked the door was locked. It was the first time Paul had ever locked him out, and it almost knocked the wind out of him.

Paul heard the twisting of the doorknob. "Tarr will be here soon, you should check that we got out everything out of the car. I'll be out soon if you want to shower," he pulled off the bandages.

"We checked the car already. Let me in there. Please, Paul," Jacob's voice cracked as he laid his forehead against the door.

"I CAN'T KEEP DOING THIS!" Paul yelled, looking up to realize he had smashed his fist into the mirror.

"Last night," Jacob began, fighting the lump in his throat, "I made myself come to terms with the fact that I've always lost everything that mattered to me. Everything just crumbles away, or leaves, or is bled dry. My parents and innocence, my sanity… Emma. But you've stuck by me. Through every struggle and up and down of this rollercoaster, you have remained by my side. Not just that, but you actually LOVE me. You look through all of my bravado and the luster I paint on the confidence I pretend to exude. You see through all of it and you know where it comes from and you haven't turned away yet. You haven't deemed me too weak to stick by, like Emma obviously did. You love me, all of me, and I guess that includes the fact that I'm a goddamn coward who hasn't given you a single reason for this loyalty."

After banging his forehead softly against the door to stave off his tears of vexation, Jacob headed towards the front door until he heard the 'click' of the bathroom door lock. He turned around and locked eyes with Paul, but their moment was shattered when they heard the sound of wheels on gravel.

Doctor Tarr had arrived.

* * *

"Jacob, why don't you go dump the car where I showed you on the map. Here. Take it with you. I'll check up on Paul and once you're back we'll head towards the meeting house."

Two minutes after his arrival and Doctor Tarr had taken total control. He pointed Paul back to the couch with a scolding for being on his feet, and directed Jacob to get Paul some water so he could take a painkiller. A real one, since Paul had new cuts in his hand and he'd be doing a more in depth examination of the knife wounds.

Or so Paul thought. He'd trusted Tarr and taken the pills, but once Jacob left he started suspecting the drugs were little more than a tool to wear down Paul's inhibitions. Apparently Tarr had a private task to burden Paul with.

"I'm not sure he has what it takes for the oncoming storm," the doctor explained as he prodded Paul's exposed abdomen, checking the sutures and the areas surrounding them. Paul winced, but more from disgust than pain. He couldn't stand that this man whom was encouraging him to betray the most important person in his life was touching him with his slimy, cold hands. Hands that could turn right around and wring the life out of both Paul and Jacob, of that Paul had no doubt.

"I think he's a lot stronger than we've realized yet," Paul replied, wanting to sound as unbiased and detached as possible. "He held up through the raid on the farm, got me here and contacted you."

"And he was a right mess when I arrived, if I remember correctly. Covered in blood and nearly in shock right along with you. He's too soft. Quite malleable, that's for sure, but he's a piece of clay that will still fall apart even after it's been put in the oven. What happens if he makes it through and ends up in the grips of the authorities. According to Emma –"

"That bitch has no idea what Jacob can handle. She fucking abandonded us at the farm –"

"Because you were BOTH purportedly falling apart. But I know you're stronger than that. You've just invested too much emotion into that boy."

Tarr looked steadily at Paul, who was fighting against the relaxing effects of the drug as hard as he could. Tarr had been his guide into Joe's arms. Tarr, whose real name escaped Paul in this moment, had been the psychiatrist he'd been forced to see through the juvenile courts all those years ago. Though they'd lost touch after Paul's last appointment when he was seventeen, somehow Tarr had found his contact information and brought him into Joe's growing family and the comfort of a home. So Paul, who may only care about Jacob, still felt indebted to Doctor Tarr and all that he had given him.

"I won't turn my back on him," Paul stated, firmly. When the doctor tisked him and took in a breath, he continued swiftly. "I won't betray him, but if I find him to be a burden… if he isn't able to do what needs to be done –"

"Which includes protecting you in case of emergency; you won't be in fighting condition for another week, at least," the Doctor interrupted, and he validated himself by nudging Paul in just the right spot for the pain to radiate to his hollow, twisted stomach, which roiled dangerously.

"He'd protect me. He'd sacrifice himself for me. And if he doesn't, then I'll die knowing he did all that he was capable of doing." Paul spoke through gritted teeth, his mouth watering in his nausea.

"Which isn't much. Now, now Paul. I thought you were just going to agree that there may be a situation in which Jacob will have to be sacrificed for your own wellbeing. If he cannot do what he needs to do, if he cannot protect you, you will rid yourself of his burden and you will do what comes naturally; save yourself."

Paul knew disagreeing would just result in the doctor illustrating, again, his current weakened state and just how vulnerable he was. He nodded his head because if he opened his mouth he might vomit or sob, and he couldn't risk either.

Not in front of this man.

"Good. Ah, speak of the devil," Tarr's tone became jovial, and Paul wanted to punch him for the mockery he could detect in it. Could no one see the Jacob he saw?

"Car's gone. That was a nice little walk you sent me on. What if someone saw me?" Jacob was sweaty and covered in a layer of dirt, even had a few scratches on his face from stray branches. He hadn't walked so much as run back to the cabin after ditching the car in what Tarr had claimed was a 'nearby' pond.

"Your gun isn't just for decoration, Jake. And that attachment, it's called a silencer." Tarr's sarcasm was dripping with condescension and Paul was glad he was drugged, because the doctor was too valuable to be killed. Yet.

"**Don't**... my name is _Jacob_. And I know what it's called, thanks. I just – I thought we didn't want to attract attention," Jacob stammered. He looked to Paul for assistance, but he had the back of his hand pressed to his forehead and his eyes squeezed shut, all the while he seemed to be taking deep, soothing breaths. "What's wrong with him?" Jacob queried, his tone just this side of accusatory but mainly full of concern.

"His wounds are still a bit delicate, but no worries; the scar tissue will form, making him even stronger than he was before. Built for what is to come."

Paul was tuning out the exchange, trying to breathe out the toxins of Tarr's words and allow the painkiller to bring him into a different headspace. He had never really liked drugs, but if it could help him forget all that the doctor had said, all that seemed to be expected of him and at what price, he'd gladly down a few dozen more.

"And what is to come?"

Until Jacob asked the one question he'd been avoiding. Would he and Jacob not get a single moment alone, just one minute of peace, to experience each other one more time with every layer peeled away…

The doctor turned fully towards Jacob, finally deigning him with eye contact.

"We're going on a trip."

* * *

_Next and final installment should be out soon. Until then, thank you for reading, you guys are amazing!_


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